Cooking Lessons with Germany!
by Melado's Melody
Summary: England is tired of other griping about his terrible cooking skills. One day, he runs away from a World Conference to blow of some steam after another fight with France, and there, Germany offers some help. How will this turn out in the end? A/N: Ugh, haven't gotten any better at summaries since I was in fifth grade, I swear. But please read if you want.


Cooking Lessons with Germany!

A/N: This was originally a request for Ecclytennysmithylove on DevianART, but I thought, why not upload it on here too? :3 This is my first story on here, isn't it? Well, enjoy, and my fanfic-writing skills are a little rusty in this one. ^^;

* * *

Today was another World Conference. As one would expect, it went as every World Conference went: America shouting that he was the hero therefore his ideas were the best, England and France arguing over seemingly nothing, Russia asking just about everyone to become one with him, and Germany once again trying to keep his frustration in check. And once again, he failed and ended screaming at the whole world (literally), "EVERYBODY SHUT UP!" Just as he said the three words, however, England rushed out of the Conference room.

"Ve~ I wonder where England went off to," Italy mused worriedly. "He looked really mad."

Everyone turned to look at France. "What?" Said nation asked, confused. "What did you say to him this time, France?" Germany asked, still a bit angry. "Yeah dude! You're arguing with Iggy all the time, what did ya do?" America added.

"I simply told him about how his food sucks and will never be as good as French cuisine," the Frenchman shrugged. Okay, he kind of had a point. Nobody liked England's cooking. Some nations mumbled in agreement.

"I'll go get him. The meeting can't finish if he decides to just leave without permission," Germany sighed, leaving the room to follow after England. When the door closed, a moment of awkward silence passed.

Then America shouted, "Woohoo! Germany's gone! Let's have a party!" Surprisingly, all of the other countries agreed to this idea. Well, all except the ones who were afraid of Germany's wrath or those who didn't even like parties.

Wait, who doesn't like parties?

Germany walked all around the building, yet he saw no sign of the big-browed Englishman. Getting quite impatient, he decided to go outside and see if England was nearby.

He found England sitting at the edge of a huge fountain. He seemed to be deep in thought. His caterpillar eyebrows were scrunched together and his eyes stared off into space. He also was mumbling incoherent words; Germany heard something about food and France, but that was it.

"England?" the man called out. The British nation turned his head to see somewhat worried electric blue eyes staring into his own wide emerald ones. "We need to get back to the meeting," Germany said once he caught England's attention.

"I don't want to." The German stepped back. He didn't normally get this kind of response, especially not from England, the self-appointed gentleman who always attended every World Conference! This was unusual; something must be bothering him a lot… besides France.

"Alright, what's on your mind?" Germany asked, walking over to sit beside England. "It's just… France is always making fun of my cooking! English food this, French cuisine that! It's starting to really get to me. My cooking is just fine, right?! Come on, scones and tea is delicious! The frog's so-called 'cuisine' has snails and frog legs! Who would find that appetizing?!"

England began ranting on and on about how perfectly fine his food is and pointing out all the weird things in French food, and Germany let him rant for a few minutes to let him blow off some steam before interrupting. "I think that-"

"WHAT?!"

"…As I was saying, I think that English food is not that bad, but it's _your_ cooking in particular that everyone hates." England sighed. "Your point?"

"My point is that maybe if you decided to, I don't know, take cooking lessons with someone, your food will taste much better and not burnt so that everyone will change their opinion from 'England's food is gross!' to 'England's food isn't that bad.'" Germany replied, trying to massage his temples to prevent himself from getting a headache.

The Englishman still wasn't convinced. "And just who would want to teach me how to cook?" he asked sullenly. Germany was getting quite frustrated. "Me, _dummkopf_!"

An awkward moment of silence passed. England decided to be irritatingly stubborn today, so he shot back with, "Germany, I appreciate you trying to help, but your food is just as 'bland' and 'tasteless' as mine. All we ever seem to see you eat is sausage, potatoes and beer."

"I didn't mean food." This took England by surprise. If it wasn't food, could it be that he means…?

The usually strict and serious German seemed a little embarrassed. Hesitantly, he said, "Don't you dare tell anyone else this, but I secretly like to bake sweets…"

England was shocked. This man, this strong and training-obsessed soldier, liked to bake sweets?! "…Well, uh, Germany… isn't that a bit girlish?"

"Shut up!" Said nation snapped. "Look, how about a deal? I can give you baking lessons if you promise not to tell anyone my secret, alright? Everyone wins." He held his hand out. "Deal?"

England thought for a moment. Let's see… Germany gives him baking/cooking lessons, he improves, and his food gets a better reputation. But if he promises not to tell anyone that Germany likes to bake, then he can't use his secret for blackmail…

The Englishman took Germany's hand. "Alright, deal."

"Now let's go back to the meeting."

As the duo walked to the Conference room, they heard music. When Germany opened the doors to the room, they found quite the party.

Rock music boomed through speakers that hadn't been there before. The lights were turned off and the room was very dark except for a disco ball that also popped out of nowhere and a bunch of glow sticks. Countries were sprawled all over the place, doing various things.

America was dancing like a maniac, drinking Cola and eating hamburgers somehow all at the same time.

Someone invited Prussia to come over and he along with the rest of the Bad Touch Trio was partying with glow sticks all over their bodies. They seemed to be drunk from the way their movements slurred together.

Russia was sitting at the table, drinking vodka and smiling happily.

Poland dragged Lithuania around, yelling things like, "OMG, Liet! You _have_ to try this outfit I brought with me! It like, totally suits you!"

Latvia was shaking in the corner, with Estonia making tea beside him.

Romano was cursing and throwing tomatoes at everyone, and North Italy was dancing.

In short, it was a huge party, and Germany was mad. Very, very mad. He tensed, and England covered his ears just in case.

"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!"

Everyone froze and turned to see a very pissed off German. Italy started crying and talking rapidly. "Germany, I'm sorry! It was America's idea, and we thought that you would call off the meeting or something, so we decided to have a little fun and-"

"Dude, why are you blaming it on me?!"

"Because it _was _your idea, and you would throw a tantrum if we didn't agree-"

"Alright, I get it!" Germany pinched his nose, irritated once again. 'This is way too much stress for one day,' He thought bitterly. After a long lecture and cleaning up the place, everyone went home.

England couldn't sleep. He was so excited! He was finally going to be able to improve his cooking! Taking lessons from Germany out of all people was quite unexpected, but as long as his food tastes good, he wouldn't mind at all.

* * *

-THE NEXT DAY-

England knocked on Germany's door. This was the first day of baking/cooking lessons, and he was quite nervous. Of course, he would never admit that. He was too proud to do so.

Not a minute after he knocked, the door swung open to reveal a certain German in a crisp white shirt, tan khaki pants, and… either England was hallucinating or he was seeing Germany wearing a pink apron. Nothing fancy, just a girlish pink with laces around the edges. England had to use every ounce of energy he had to keep himself from laughing. Just imagine it for a second! "Manly" Germany in a frilly pink apron!

"W-what are you wearing?!" England asked, still trying not to laugh. "I don't want to get dirty," the German replied with a glare that made England forget all about anything happy.

"Come on inside. I have everything prepared, so we can start whenever you're ready."

The British nation walked in to find everything neat and clean, as one would expect. He walked further to the kitchen and found ingredients placed neatly in a group on the counter.

"So what are we making today?"

"A simple German cake recipe called _Zuckerkuchen_."

"And what would that be?"

"The Zuckerkuchen is a butter cake, the most basic Blechkuchen, which is a cake that is baked in a large baking sheet, like a sheet cake. It is made from yeast dough, which is baked with a topping of butter pieces and sugar. I find it pretty easy to make, so I thought that it would make a good start."

"Alright then."

And so they began to try making the German cake, but it wasn't easy. Germany had to stop England many times to correct something ("No, dummkopf! You can't add that yet!") It was very hard, and even with Germany's efforts, England somehow ended up screwing it up and the cake came out of the oven burnt. Germany sighed and the Englishman himself seemed a bit embarrassed. "Let's try again tomorrow!" He said, suddenly enthusiastic. "I'm sure it'll come out better!"

England went home strangely optimistic, while Germany went to bed preparing for the worst and hoping for the best.

* * *

-THE DAY AFTER THAT-

England found himself once again at Germany's door, knocking, waiting, greeting and entering.

"Are we going to make the same thing as yesterday?"

"Ja. I heard from somewhere that practice makes perfect, so I'm going to help you practice making Zuckerkuchen until you are descent enough at it to move on to another recipe."

"Well then, let's start!"

This time, the English nation was more careful and made sure not to make the same mistakes, although he still repeated a few. He worked hard and his German tutor tried hard to help him too. It turned out that Germany was a good teacher… when you overlook how strict he is.

The cake didn't burn this time, but England added a bit too much sugar and it tasted way too sweet. But it was progress.

* * *

-THE DAY AFTER THE DAY AFTER THAT-

"Hmm… this isn't bad at all."

"Really?!"

"Ja. Not burnt, not too much sugar, it's quite good actually."

Germany witnessed a certain relieved and overjoyed Brit do an odd dance of happiness. "Uh… what are you doing?"

"My happy dance!"

"…Okay?"

It went on like that for the next 6 months; England would screw it up badly the first time, and do it a little better attempt after attempt until he could bake the most complicated German sweets quite well. It was amazing progress.

England went home smiling after each success, sometimes until his face hurt. Germany was proud of him too, although a little creeped out by his "Happy dance".

It turned out that all England really needed was someone willing to teach him.

One day after another success of making sweets, Germany decided it was time to celebrate with something new.

Since it _was _England, he should know how to make his own country's sweets. So Germany looked up several recipes for English food and decided on one in particular. It was simple compared to what England just made today, but he knew the Englishman loves it.

Then it was decided. English food for the English nation tomorrow.

* * *

-THE DAY AFTER THE DAY AFTER THE DAY- OH, SCREW IT-

England was confused. He just got a call from Germany, who told him to bring some Earl Grey tea with him today. What could he possibly be planning? After all, Earl Grey tea was British. Oh well.

When he made to Germany's house, he still didn't know why he had to bring tea with him. Again, he waved away the question for later.

He knocked and greeted Germany like usual. However, those ingredients on the counter looked kind of familiar…

"Today we're going to make lemon blueberry scones and make tea to go with them," Germany said with a hint of a smile. "Eh?! Scones?! But those are British!" England was shocked.

"Yes, but aren't you British as well? You should know how to make your own countries sweets too."

"Well, that does make sense…"

"_Gut_. Let's get started."

With all the experience he gained from learning from the German, the scones came out perfectly. The tea was also perfect, because England never failed at making tea in his entire life.

The two nations sat in the dining room, eating the tasty snacks. England was very happy, and Germany was quite satisfied himself. "I think you don't need me to tutor you anymore, you're very good at cooking now."

"To be completely honest, I was thinking that too," the Brit replied. They agreed and parted ways after finishing the scones and tea.

England could easily say that was one of the best days in his life.

* * *

-THE NEXT WORLD CONFERENCE-

America was making his way over to the snacks table when he saw a British nation set down a tray of scones and tea. 'Aw, not again!' He thought. Then he saw the treats after England left. For once, the scones didn't look burnt. They actually looked kind of appetizing. America decided to try one. He kept a trash bin close by in case it still tasted like crap.

He took a bite… and his jaw dropped. "Oh… my… God. This tastes incredible!" He gobbled up the scone of the scone and ate another one. After finishing up five scones, he saw England walk by and jumped on him. "IGGY! I LOVE YOU! YOUR SCONES DON'T TASTE LIKE PETRIFIED COUCH STUFFING AND TASTE LIKE ACTUAL FOOD!" He shouted into the Brit's ear, hugging him tightly. "HOW DID IT HAPPEN?!" England struggled to make the American get off of him and replied, "I took lessons from someone. Now get off me, you bloody git!" He was annoyed, but America could see that his emerald eyes shone with pride.

The rest of the countries happened to overhear America's rambling about how good the scones were. Some thought America had gone insane, lost his taste buds, been brainwashed, or he was actually telling the truth. A few of the nicer nations hesitantly tried the scones themselves and they all deemed them delicious. One by one, each country took a taste and was shocked at the drastic improvement from the burnt pieces of crap they were so accustomed to. That is, all except for Germany. However, no one took notice of that. They were all too occupied with the heavenly scones that had been made by England.

Soon, all of the scones ran out before the meeting even started. The English nation was quite proud of himself and also kind of pissed that no one saved a scone for him. Oh well. He could always make more at home. For now it was time to carry on with the World Conference.


End file.
